


got down on my knees (pretended to pray)

by wreckofherheart



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, F/F, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8195638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckofherheart/pseuds/wreckofherheart
Summary: The choir of death is set before you, strumming the strings, and you are its conductor.
[Korra/Asami]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Still suffering from her PTSD after the finale, Asami is there to comfort her.

   They fall like rain.

Everything you ever loved.

Bodies of rust scatter the earth, and you’re on your knees, wailing. 

Tears, as hot as ash, pass your cheeks; a stream of grief. Your heart collapses, and your lungs break. 

Your parents are the first to go. Those who raised you, who caressed your sweet face––vanish before your eyes. Hell rips them from your arms, and your soul is torn away. You can recall their screams, itched into your head. 

Next is Mako, and you’ve never witnessed a man cry like he. 

Blood pours from his eye sockets, tears mixed with the mess. You can do nothing, but watch him deteriorate into nothing. 

The choir of death is set before you, strumming the strings, and you are its conductor. 

When Bolin performs his solo, you’re horrified to witness him disappear. Your friends and your family are taken away, bloody and lifeless, and you are a helpless little girl. Trapped in a body that is so harmless, so weak, and so defenceless. 

Asami’s kisses are soft caresses across your tattered lips. 

Tender, like her fingertips, touching your naked breast. 

You dream about everyone you ever loved, and each is stolen. Wrapped in chains, and crushed. 

The men who haunt your memories. The women who have scarred your innocence. They terrify you, and you claw at your face, crying out your heart. You are a traumatised, scared child. Somebody’s daughter. A mother’s baby. 

Lost.

You once loved to dream. Run away to a land of green, where the sun shines, and love holds you in a prison of warmth. 

Now, you detest it all.

So you wake up, beating the air, and screaming. Trembling, staggered breath, eyes wide in paralysed terror.

And she comes around you. Her palms pressed into your flesh, hands winding around your wrists, holding you steady. Forcing you to wrestle against her, scrunch your eyes shut, and _fight_. She doesn’t let you go, doesn’t allow you to be dragged into a pit of disturbed insanity, forever gone. She can’t handle losing you, so she _clings_ on; so tightly, she might just bleed.

Whispers, as gentle as a mother’s lullaby.

_I am here, I got you;_

_I will never let you go._

Then you are slap back to your senses, and your world is her embrace. Her lips on your skin. The smell of perfume in her hair. The home in her eyes. And you stop, you look at her, and your dreams simply become that: _just a dream_. You kiss her mouth, and she kisses you too, and then you cry. You cry a little, just a little, hanging onto whatever is left of yourself.

Sunlight pours in through the blinds, and the morning welcomes you with a taunting grin. 

You could escape with this wonder woman. Take her hand, guide her into another life, but those memories, those faces; those horrible things. They will never leave you, and you feel trapped. You feel like a prisoner in your own head, and the lock has been sealed. Your heart hurting, you pull at her clothes, and try to kiss her; kiss her until the pain stops. Until it’s easier to breathe.

Perhaps some dreams do become reality, because the next time she kisses you, you’re cradled into a sea of contentment. You’re stroked, and eased out of your agony. Her fingers comb through your hair, massaging your scalp; reaching to the bridge of your nose, over your cheek, and finally to your lips. The place where you express your love for her, your need for her; how much you adore this amazing spirit in your arms. The very soul which keeps you grounded.

The sheets drop to her hips, and she embraces you to the mattress; covers you in her love. Kisses your neck, your collarbone, and your breasts. Kisses you and kisses you, and you exhale, gasp; _cling on so tightly you’re sure you might just lose your mind_. When she finds your lips again, you return her affection with equal passion, before resting her face between your palms.

Yours.

As you are hers.

That’s when she says it will all be okay. 

_I’ve got you, Korra. My love. My home. Everything, absolutely everything, is going to be okay._

_You don’t need to be scared any longer._

Once you’re anchored by her words, you know you will be with her until the end of time.

Not even death itself could pry you both apart.

When you smile, she smiles in return, and it’s all okay. 

So you whisper all that needs to be said. A repeated anthem of belonging.

‘I love you, Asami.’

 


End file.
